


messy head

by wiredeyes



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Depression, F/M, Flashbacks, Loneliness, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-06 02:41:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13401714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wiredeyes/pseuds/wiredeyes
Summary: Stan filled his summer nights crying and praying for everything to shut up. Bill filled his with movies and laughter.orThe aftermath of Pennywise's attack and what it did to Stanley Uris





	messy head

**Author's Note:**

> warning for blood and suicidal thoughts!!

It was cold. So cold. Mind numbing, bone-chillingly cold. Everything was dark. It was like his senses had been shut off, yet he was still somewhat aware of the cold water on the ground that seeped through Stan’s shirt. If he wasn’t paralyzed with fear and pain, he would have been disgusted.  
  
There was so much pain. Like small fires lit all over Stan’s face. IT’s teeth dug deep, causing a steady flow of crimson to leak from Stan’s injuries. He wanted to claw off his own skin, maybe if the creature would just kill him already, it would stop hurting.  
  
He didn’t want to die. He had no one. The people he thought he could trust forced him down here. Where were they now, when Stanley was bleeding out in the sewers? They abandoned him. They couldn’t help him.  
  
But God could.  
  
Stanley tried to remain conscious as he prayed, it started off weak and without words. He couldn’t move his face, so he thought. He tried to make his thoughts loud and clear, “Help me. Help me. Help me.” He repeated, hoping that the God he had been worshiping his entire life could be kind enough to let him live.  
  
But the creature didn’t let go. IT stayed there, teeth embedded in his skin, and Stanley gave up. There was no hope, he would die alone in the sewers of Derry. He lets his mind go blank. It’s over, and no one would even care about the Jewish kid who went missing like the others.  
  
And then it was over. Stanley wasn’t dead, he wasn’t in the sewer anymore. He was kneeling with his head bowed on his bedroom floor.  
He raised his head and allowed his eyes to open. Instead of IT, Stan saw the moon, casting light onto his heavily bandaged face.  
  
_Tap. Tap. Tap._ Stanley looked straight out the window and saw Him. Bill Denbrough. His face was full of worry. Worry for Stan, but he didn’t care this much when Stan was really in the sewers. For a moment, they catch each other's gaze and stare.  
  
It’s his fault, he thinks, and then pulls the curtain shut, letting out another sob before stripping to his boxers, and climbing into his bed.  
  
ー  
Bill gazed at the place his neighbor and once best friend had stood only seconds before.  
  
He wasn’t sure what had happened to Stan. Bill saw him reading the book on birds he had received for his bar mitzvah. Bill turned to put something into his backpack, and when he turned back, Stan was on the floor.  
  
Bill didn’t know what to do. Should he go over to his house? No- Stan’s parents would ask questions. But if he stayed here? What could happen to Stan?  
  
As soon as it had started, it was over. Stan was still crying, but it wasn’t as bad or as violent as it was when it started. Bill tapped his window, trying to get the other boy’s attention.  
Stanley locked eyes with him and shut the curtain.  
  
ー  
Stan knew he was wasting his summer. His father would come in to tell him Bill invited him over, or Richie called saying they were going out. But Stan wouldn’t leave. The only time he left his house was to the synagogue.  
  
Stan wanted to waste away. Nights were all the same. He locked himself in his room after dinner and would have a panic attack.  
  
Sometimes, he would notice the rest of the Loser Club in Bill’s room. Sometimes they would watch movies on Bill’s bed. Sometimes they would just hang out. Sometimes Beverly would get close to Bill, and Stan’s heart would break.  
  
She would sit on Bill’s lap, play with his hair, and kiss his cheeks, and Stan would shut his curtains.  
  
Stan would continue to isolate himself, and the Loser’s would stop inviting him places. Stanley convinced himself they never wanted him around in the first place, and only kept trying to get him to hang out because they felt bad.

Every night before bed, Stan would pray for the nightmares to end. He would pray for the clown to all be a dream, he prayed for his best friend back, and every morning he would wake up in a panic, sweat-soaked and shaking because of the clown, and every morning he would open his curtains to see Bill’s empty room. 

ー

The day Stan stopped praying for Bill was the day Bill brought Bev home. He didn’t want to see them together. As much as he loved Beverly, the sight made him sick. 

They were sitting on his bed and giggling together. She kissed his cheek. It was innocent, but he knew how Bill felt about Beverly because Stan was the one he’d gush to in the early hours of the morning. 

That was the first day Stan actually thought about suicide. 

It had crossed his mind on the worst days, when he would sit in the shower, scrubbing his body raw, trying to get rid of the filthy feeling that wouldn’t leave him no matter how long he spent with a bar of soap. 

But on this day, as Stan saw them from the corner of his eye, he didn’t think he could do anything much longer. What wasn’t completely numb was aching. 

Aching to be fixed, to no longer wake up every morning in tears, aching to be held, for someone to wrap their arms around him and tell him to hold on. 

ー  
Stanley finally left the house at the end of summer. Mike had been the one to finally convince him. He told him it was far too important to miss. 

They all talked about what had happened that night, except Stan. He kept his mouth shut the entire conversation. From the beginning, to when Beverly talked about what she had experienced. Stan felt awful. Beverly had almost died, much like Stan, but she didn’t isolate herself. She still hung out with the Losers and laughed and smiled at them.

The difference between them all came down to fear. Beverly wasn’t scared of IT. She faced him bravely, fighting to her last second. Stan walked into that house full of fear. He was down the second he saw IT. 

When the day came to an end, Bill stood up. He had picked up a piece of broken glass off the ground and told them that if IT ever came back, if IT wasn’t dead, they would return to Derry and end it once and for all. 

Stan panicked. He never wanted to face IT again. He could feel his throat closing up, his eyes stinging, but he stood up with the rest of the kids.

When Bill came to him, they looked each other in the eyes. Stan held out his hand, and Bill cut the flesh on his palm open with the sharp glass. Stan winced and watched the blood pool in his palm, and overflow onto the ground. 

That night, Stanley went home and went straight to bed. He had been the first to leave, knowing how Beverly and Bill were looking at each other. He didn’t want to stay to hear them talk about IT or about each other. 

He didn’t bother changing out of his clothes. His last thought before drifting off was stupid Bill Denbrough and his stupid stutter.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you guys enjoyed this fic as much as i enjoyed writing it!! <3


End file.
